


touching from a distance

by higgsbosonblues



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Formula E RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, French Grand Prix 2018, M/M, Nostalgia, Smoking, but not too bad, it's Jev so it's kind of angsty, lol everything i write is tagged "a bit angsty", they're still the OG red bull bromance really aren't they
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 03:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15064568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/higgsbosonblues/pseuds/higgsbosonblues
Summary: Jean-Éric and Dan meet up at the French Grand Prix.





	touching from a distance

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this basically came about because there was a shot in FP3 while it was rained off at Paul Ricard of Jean-Éric in the Red Bull garage talking to Dan, and Ted Kravitz was all excited and happy about it, and so was I. 
> 
> It's pretty much just porn, but with feelings, because it's Jev and he just seems to have a lot of feelings in general? I don't know how it came to be 5,000+ words. Brevity is not my strong point.
> 
> Title is from Transmission by Joy Division because a) angst and b) there's a photo of Jev floating about somewhere where he's wearing a Joy Division sweater and it just about killed me because OF COURSE HE LIKES JOY DIVISION. Also I don't know whether he really does smoke in real life, it's mostly just a sweeping cultural stereotype. Sorry.

Dan does a double-take when he sees Jean-Éric walk into the Red Bull garage during third practice. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and it makes Jean-Éric stands a little straighter before he steps past the car on its high stands and opens his arms to accept Dan’s hug.

“Jev!” Dan says against his temple, sounding genuinely pleased to see him. “Fuck!” His arms tighten around Jean-Éric’s shoulders briefly. The smell of him fills Jean-Éric’s head, a familiar mix of sweat, Nomex, the coconut shampoo Dan has used for as long as Jean-Éric’s known him. He breathes in deeply, and it’s like being punched in the gut, like going straight back to 2014. He disentangles himself gently, kisses Dan’s cheek because he can and because he knows it’ll make Dan laugh.

“How’ve you been?” Dan says, holding him at arm’s length and squinting at him. “Things are going well for you, huh?”

Jev shrugs, smiles. “Pretty well for you too, it seems. You’re the one everyone wants.”

Dan cackles, brushing imaginary dirt from his shoulder. “Oh, you know,” he says dismissively. “It’s just silly season. People love a story.”

Jean-Éric rolls his eyes and pats Dan’s arm. “Of course,” he says placatingly, and Dan grins.

“You’re doing TV stuff again?” Dan asks, and Jean-Éric nods.

“Yeah, TF1. I only have a few minutes. I wanted to come and say hi in case I missed you the rest of the weekend.”

Dan nods. “I heard you were around in Monaco too.”

“I was. You were pretty busy that weekend,” Jev says, and feels a complicated mix of emotions as a gentle, involuntary smile curves Dan’s cheeks at the memory.

Someone shouts Dan’s name, one of the engineers gesturing urgently at a laptop screen, and Dan twists his mouth ruefully. “I better go,” he says, then hesitates. He reaches forward and twists a hand into the sleeve of Jean-Éric’s jacket, tugging. “Listen, are you free this evening?”

Jev looks down at where Dan’s fingers hold the cloth. “Well, I have some media things at the fan event in Marseille later and then we have a boat for the weekend. Join us if you like. You still have my number, right?” It’s a gentle a dig; he’d texted Dan a few times over the past year or so but rarely received a reply on the same day he’d sent it.

Dan takes it in the spirit it’s intended, giving him a sheepish little smile. “Yeah, I do. I’ll let you know.” He glances over at his engineer again, his attention pulled in both directions, and abruptly wraps his arms around Jev’s neck again. “Good to see you, bro,” he says, and Jean-Éric pats him on the shoulderblade, wishes him luck and gets out of his way, doesn’t think too much more of it. He’s learned to keep a protective shield around himself where the other driver is concerned.

 

He’s busy enough with media duties and meeting the French fans for the rest of the afternoon that his offer to Dan slips his mind, and when his phone buzzes in his pocket later that evening he’s expecting André’s name to come up on the screen.

_Gonna watch the football then might pop over, where u at?_

Jev taps his thumb against the edge of his phone, contemplating. He still doesn’t quite trust Dan to turn up, especially not with such a noncommittal text. He’s annoyed at himself for even caring, for having to brace himself against getting his hopes up, and he sighs slightly. Formula E is a lot easier to deal with: more racing, less politics. Less to gain, perhaps, but less to lose, too. Even after all this time, stepping back into the bubble of F1 sets him on edge. He never quite relaxes.

He shakes his head at himself, fires off a quick reply to Dan with the details and shoves his phone back into his pocket, resolving to ignore it for the rest of the night. It’s easy enough to do once he’s had a few drinks.

 

He’s smoking a cigarette, leaning against the metal railings on the top deck of the boat to watch the sun disappear behind the mountains, when he sees Dan approach. It’s cooler now the sun has receded slightly and Dan’s dressed in a black sweatshirt a few sizes too big, accentuating his slim hips and making him look smaller than his true size. Jev spots him first, watching as Dan scans the crowd of people milling around, chewing at his bottom lip. There’s a curious vulnerability to his expression that catches Jean-Éric off-guard, reminding him of a kid lost in a supermarket.

“Dan,” he calls, waving to direct his attention. He watches the flicker of confusion that crosses Dan’s face as he searches Jev out, following his voice amidst the hubbub, then the broad smile that relaxes his face into its familiar contours. Dan waves back jauntily, steps on to the deck, wobbling slightly and giggling.

“Hey!” Dan says once he’s steady, threading his way through people and sun loungers until he reaches Jean-Éric. Jev holds his cigarette up and out of the way as Dan hugs him again. “Oh, you smell disgusting,” Dan says into his shoulder, inhaling deeply. “Filthy habit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jean-Éric says once Dan’s pulled away. He takes a drag and exhales a thin stream of smoke, angling his head so it’s not aimed right at Dan’s face. “I don’t smoke so much. Besides, it makes me look cool.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Dan says solemnly, placing a hand over his heart. Jean-Éric flicks the cigarette butt over the side and beckons Dan over to sit down, grabbing them both a beer from the cooler packed with ice nearby.

It’s strange, but after the initial awkwardness has dissipated, it’s like they’ve never been away from each other, their conversations slipping into the same old rhythms of teasing and easy banter interspersed with the odd moment of introspection. Dan is quiet, for Dan at least, more thoughtful than Jean-Éric had been expecting. He wonders if it’s just the ageing process getting to them all.

At some point he becomes aware that Dan is holding his gaze deliberately, then dropping his eyes with an embarrassed smile whenever Jean-Éric looks back for too long. Jev wants to laugh. “You are staring at me,” he says, and Dan laughs, that embarrassed squawk he knows so well.

“Sorry,” Dan says. The bridge of his nose is a little bit pink, barely visible in the low light. “You look good, though. I guess in my head you’re still a geeky kid.”

“Well,” Jev says, somewhere between pleased and insulted. He thinks he was an okay catch in the Toro Rosso days.“I think we both have better hair now.” He casts a critical eye over Dan’s mop of curls and backtracks. “Well, at least I do. But you are looking better too.”

Dan ducks his head and smiles at his feet, quiet for a moment. People are dancing just behind him, the hum of conversation swelling as the night teeters on the edge of becoming a party. Jean-Éric glances at Dan; he looks tired already. The atmosphere of drinking and dancing isn’t what Dan needs the evening before a race, Jean-Éric thinks, and feels bad for inviting him.

“Are you staying nearby?” Dan asks, as though he’s read Jev’s mind.

Jean-Éric nods, pointing. “In a villa that way. About ten minutes’ walk.” Dan nods and looks at him with a painfully earnest expression, waiting. Jean-Éric relents. “You want to walk over there, catch up where it’s quieter?”

“Sure,” Dan says casually, but Jean-Éric can see he’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling.

 

It’s a pleasant walk back to the villa now the temperature has dropped. Jean-Éric tucks his scarf tighter around his neck against the cool breeze coming from the Mistral, and Dan pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands, shivering a little but happy enough to keep up a meandering conversation about about Le Mans and the G-Drive appeal.

Jean-Éric answers Dan’s questions naturally enough, but he’s mostly on autopilot. He’s not stupid; he knows when an invitation for coffee and a chat is just that and when it’s the promise of something more, and everything about Dan’s body language suggests it’s the latter. It’s been a very long time since anything like that happened between them.

There had been a few months, back when they were in the Red Bull Juniors and their hormones were raging out of control, where they’d found each other’s beds nearly every night, learning each other’s bodies, hands pressed over each other’s mouths to stop Brendon hearing in the next room over. By the time they’d progressed to Toro Rosso, they both had girlfriends and knew enough to be wary of starting rumours in a paddock that still frowned upon anything other than straight men, however covertly. The excruciating atmosphere in the Red Bull circus did its damage, and by the end of the 2013 season Jean-Éric didn’t even miss him all that much.

The last time had been in 2014, when everything seemed to be falling apart and he was angrier than he had ever been in his life, rage at the sheer injustice of it all coalescing into a hot hard ball in the pit of his stomach and crowding out space for any other emotion. Dan had come to him in Suzuka after the news about Vettel had broken and Jean-Éric had known without being told that he was fucked, standing in the doorway of his hotel room in his socks and saying _I didn’t know, Jev, I swear, this is as much of a shock to me as it is to you._ Jean-Éric had let him in, had let Dan undress him and take him to bed and fuck him so slowly that he was almost sobbing by the time he came over Dan’s hand, limp and shaking. When Dan had tried to kiss him afterwards, he had turned his head away and said _I think you should go now_ , stared out of the window at the grey skies while Dan dressed in silence.

They’ve seen each other since then, and their lives have moved on so much in four years that it’s pointless to hold grudges. Besides, Dan was as much of a pawn as Jev himself had been, just a little more lucky.

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Dan breaks his reverie, amused.

Jev shakes himself, chuckling, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I was thinking about the past.”

“Uh-oh,” Dan says. He’s smiling but wary when Jev glances up at him. “That’s never a good thing.”

“No,” Jean-Éric says thoughtfully. “I don’t mean in a bad way. Coming back to F1 always feels strange.”

Dan nods, looking over at the mountains in the distance, silhouetted against the encroaching sunset. “I can see that.”

Jean-Éric’s mood turns over and he sighs slightly, elbowing Dan lightly. “Look at you,” he says. “You come to France and get all wistful, staring off into the distance.”

Dan laughs at that. “Je suis désolé,” he says dramatically, with atrocious pronunciation.

“That doesn’t mean you’re wistful, you idiot,” Jev says. “It means you’re sorry. Stop mangling my language. Anyway, we’re here.”

 

To his slight surprise, Dan does accept his mostly perfunctory offer of a drink when they get inside, settling on green tea when Jev pulls the well-stocked cupboards open to show him the options. Even though it’s getting late, he makes coffee for himself, busying himself with the routine of spooning grounds into the cafetiere, waiting for the kettle to boil.

They sit out on the balcony, overlooking the pool, Jev blowing across the surface of his coffee to cool it. Dan turns his mug round and round in his hands, staring into the murky liquid. Jean-Éric lights another cigarette, ignores Dan wrinkling his nose.

“Nobody’s gonna want to kiss you with a mouth like an ashtray,” Dan says, faux-sanctimonious, and Jev grins.

“You want to kiss me anyway,” he says, and Dan smiles in that crooked way he has when he doesn’t want to agree with something but can’t help it, one cheek dimpling.

“A little bit,” he admits, taking a sip of his tea to cover his smirk. Jean-Éric gives him a sidelong glance as he exhales smoke from the corner of his mouth, holding his gaze until Dan squirms and then breaking into giggles himself. He can only keep up the smouldering French thing for so long where Dan’s concerned.

“Come on, then,” Jev says decisively, stubbing out his cigarette in the glass dish on the table and draining the last of his coffee. “Or do you want me to brush my teeth first?”

Dan snickers and tips the last of his green tea into his mouth, wincing at the bitterness. “It's fine, I’ll cope,” he says, standing to follow Jean-Éric back inside. He places a hand in the small of Jev’s back as they go through the French doors, rubbing over the bumps of his spine through his thin jacket. Jev shivers a little at the contact, and as soon as they're inside, he turns to face Dan, taking the cup out of his hand and placing it, along with his own, on the sideboard. Then he steps into Dan's personal space, his arms wrapping around the Australian’s neck, their toes almost touching.

“Hi,” Dan says softly, nuzzling his nose against Jev’s. His hands are at Jev’s waist, slipping inside his jacket, fingers already burying under the soft fabric of his t-shirt to the skin beneath.

“Hello,” Jev murmurs, smiling, brushing his lips over Dan’s lightly. Dan makes a quiet noise, almost a sigh, and Jean-Éric keeps his eyes open long enough to see Dan’s flutter closed, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks in the lamplight. “You're pretty,” he says against Dan’s mouth, and Dan smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges. He's still smiling when Jean-Éric closes the gap between them and kisses him.

Dan opens his mouth immediately, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his hands pulling Jev’s body close. It had always been one of Jev’s favourite things about Dan when they were younger: there was a sweet simplicity to the way Dan kissed and fucked, a total lack of interest in teasing or taking it slow. Back then Jev might have written it off as youthful enthusiasm or a lack of finesse, but it seems Dan hasn't changed. There's an openness to the way he kisses, already running his fingertips around the waistband of Jev’s jeans, groaning softly when Jean-Éric tightens his fingers in Dan’s curls.

“Oh, you taste gross,” Dan says, breathy, mouthing at Jean-Éric’s jaw and then kissing him again, even harder than before.

“Stop complaining, you love it. Bedroom,” Jean-Éric says, muffled, pushing at Dan’s shoulders to get him to walk backwards.

He only bumps Dan into one doorframe as he steers him through to the bedroom, and Dan just laughs, more occupied with unwinding Jean-Éric’s long scarf from around his neck. By the time they're in the bedroom it's hanging loose, threatening to trip them both, Jev’s jacket pushed halfway down his back, trapping his arms. Dan stops them in the doorway, fisting his hand into Jev’s hair and tipping his head to one side so he can lick and bite at the newly-exposed skin of his neck and jaw.

“If you leave bruises,” Jean-Éric says, taking a shuddery breath, “I'll tell all the French viewers it was you.”

Dan snickers and pulls back, tugging the scarf off fully and urging Jev’s jacket off, letting it drop to the floor. “You wouldn't dare.”

“Try me,” Jev says, although he sounds less threatening than he'd wanted to as Dan chooses that moment to slide his hands around to grab his arse, pulling their hips flush together. He trails off into a groan, and Dan laughs dirtily, pressing their mouths together hungrily once again. He palms Jean-Éric’s arse, squeezing the flesh in his hands and grinding his erection against Jev’s. He suddenly thinks back to the first time he had sucked Dan’s cock, when they had both been 18 and horny and hopelessly inexperienced. It's a bizarrely clear memory, of kneeling on the floor between Dan’s knees as he perched on the end of the bed, one hand in Jev’s hair, shaking all over. Jean-Éric can still remember the musky smell of his arousal, the thickness of his cock as he wrapped his lips around it, the terror he felt whenever his teeth grazed the tip. He had been a whole lot better at sucking cock by the end of that year.

Jean-Éric worms a hand between their bodies, palming Dan’s erection through his shorts. “You want me to suck it?” he asks, feeling Dan’s hips twitch involuntarily at his words.

“I kind of… Can we fuck instead?” Dan asks, reddening. “Is that okay?”

Jean-Éric laughs, breathless, nodding. “Very okay,” he says, punctuating his words with a squeeze to Dan’s erection that makes his eyes close involuntarily, the Australian inhaling deeply and biting his bottom lip. His hands are at Jev’s waist, urging his shirt off over his head and tugging his own sweatshirt off. Jev runs his hands greedily over the exposed skin. Dan has always had a good body but now it's unreal, and he runs his thumb down the channel of skin between his abs, brushing over the light hair on his lower stomach.

Dan grunts softly, catching Jev’s wrist in his hand and tugging them both over to the bed. He kicks off his shoes and sits back on top of the duvet, pushing himself up so he's propped on the pillows, half-sitting, and pats his thighs. Jean-Éric gets the hint, clambers on to the bed and straddles Dan’s lap, grinding his arse down against Dan’s erection.

Dan moans, raking his bitten fingernails down Jean-Éric’s back. “Like this,” he says. “I want to see you.”

“So romantic,” Jev teases, his hands at Dan’s belt, undoing the buckle.

Dan grins up at him, lifting his hips so Jean-Éric can push his shorts down. “I want to see how much you love having my dick inside you,” he says. His tone is light but there's heat in his eyes that makes Jev take a breath.

He gets a fist around Dan’s erection, stroking him slowly, leaning down to kiss him. “I want it so much,” he whispers against Dan’s mouth, knowing Dan loves to hear him talking dirty. “Want you inside me, Dan.”

Dan groans, whether from Jev’s words or the movement of his hand, trying to undo Jev’s belt and kiss him at the same time and mostly failing at both. Jean-Éric laughs, pushes his hands away and climbs off Dan’s lap to finish undressing himself, darting into the en-suite for his washbag and tossing sachets of lube and a condom on to the bed next to Dan.

Jean-Éric settles himself across Dan’s lap again once they’re both naked, enjoying the heat of Dan’s skin against his own and leaning down to kiss him slowly. Dan’s body is familiar beneath him, so is the way he kisses, and yet it’s different, too. Back then they could have only dreamed of the luxury of taking it slow, of a whole villa to themselves, of not having to be quick and furtive. The knowledge that it’s a one-off, that he might not see Dan again for months, makes him want to slow down.

Dan breaks the kiss to tear open one of the bubble packs of lube, drizzling it across his fingers and urging Jean-Éric to his hands and knees either side of Dan’s torso. His fingers probe the crease of his arse, rubbing gently, and Jean-Éric whines, spreads his legs further.

“I want to hear you,” Dan says, lips against his jaw, and pushes one finger inside Jean-Éric’s body. Jev shudders, moaning, and it’s not just for show. Dan nudges at him with his nose until Jean-Éric lifts his head to kiss him again, gasping against his mouth when Dan starts to move his finger with more intent, stretching him out.

Jean-Éric shifts his weight, clutching at Dan’s shoulders so he can push back against Dan’s hand, flexing his hips. His erection nudges wetly against Dan’s sternum. “More,” he murmurs, and Dan obliges, pressing a second finger inside him.

It’s so good already, the stretch and burn, the sting of sweat in the irritation from Dan’s stubble around his mouth, and he rocks his hips back to meet the movements of Dan’s hand, soft noises spilling from his lips involuntarily.

“That’s it,” Dan says, nipping at Jev’s jawline. “Let me hear you.” He pushes his fingers in hard, twisting them, and Jean-Éric cries out, digging his fingernails into the skin of Dan’s shoulderblades. Dan laughs, fucking him harder, until Jean-Éric’s thighs are trembling, cock oozing where it presses against Dan’s stomach.

“That’s enough,” Jev gasps out, pushing at Dan’s shoulders. “Come on, I’m ready.”

Dan makes a disappointed sound but stills the motion of his fingers, withdrawing them from Jev’s body as gently as possible. He fumbles with the condom wrapper, hands still slick with lube, breaking into frustrated giggles. Jean-Éric shakes his head and moves to help him, twisting to reach behind himself and help Dan roll the condom over his leaking dick, following it with the rest of the lube from the crumpled sachet Dan had discarded next to them.

“Okay?” Dan says, reaching past Jev’s body to grasp his cock around the base, holding it steady as Jean-Éric kneels up, balancing himself by holding on to Dan’s shoulders again.

“Go slow,” Jev says, and Dan nods, biting his lip, exhaling slowly as Jev sinks down on to him.

“Oh, fuck,” Dan says softly, pressing his forehead against Jean-Éric’s collarbone, the hand that isn’t holding his erection clutching at Jev’s side as he struggles to keep his hips still. “Fuck, Jev, you feel good.”

Jean-Éric buries his face in Dan’s hair, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, overwhelmed. His thighs burn with the strain of holding himself above Dan’s body, the thickness of Dan’s cock making him feel over-full, overstimulated. He breathes out shakily, almost a whimper, sinking down incrementally until he feels Dan’s fist touching his arse. Dan groans, unfurls his fingers, touching where Jev is stretched around him and making him whine at the added sensation.

Dan squirms, lifting his head and leaning back against the heaped pillows, his damp fingers sliding round the curve of Jev’s arse and settling on his hips, holding him steady while he adjusts. Jev lets himself fall forward slightly, placing his palms on the flat planes of Dan’s chest. His hair falls over his face and Dan lifts a hand, brushes it back with a gentle gesture and then cups his cheek, thumb resting on Jean-Éric’s bottom lip. He licks at it, blinking down at Dan, smiling a little.

“You good?” Dan says. His voice is shaking slightly. Jean-Éric nods, breathes deeply, rolls his hips experimentally. They both moan in tandem, Dan’s eyelids fluttering with the effort of keeping his eyes open, and Jean-Éric digs his fingers into Dan’s chest, letting his chin drop.

“Nah,” Dan murmurs, tapping at Jean-Éric’s chin to get him to lift his head. “I wanna see your face, remember?”

Jev laughs breathlessly, meeting Dan’s gaze, shifting his weight so he can start to move properly in Dan’s lap. Dan groans, bending his knees so Jev is fully braced in the fulcrum of his body, hands moving to his arse to steady him. It’s easy to build a rhythm after that, Jev starting off slow and building until he’s fucking himself hard on Dan’s cock, Dan’s hips lifting to meet his thrusts. The sounds they make together are obscene, flesh slapping against flesh, Jean-Éric moaning uncontrollably, arching his back.

“Fuck,” Dan grits out, his hands tight on Jev’s hips, grinding Jev down against his own pelvis. Jean-Éric tips his head back, gasps Dan’s name, gasping for breath through parted lips. He can feel Dan’s eyes on him, watching him intensely. It spurs him on, makes him feel wanton and too hot. He says Dan’s name again, his hips moving faster, thighs trembling, cock dripping on to Dan’s stomach.

It’s too good, too much, and when Dan gets a hand around his cock Jean-Éric knows he won’t last but he doesn’t care, sinking into it. He gasps as Dan’s fingers tighten around him, arching back so far that he ends up leaning back against Dan’s thighs. The change in angle means Dan can brace his feet flat against the bed and thrust up with more intent, fucking him harder, the muscles in his stomach tense and slick with sweat.

“That’s it,” Dan says, hand moving faster on Jev’s dick, breathing heavily. “Come for me, c’mon.”

Jean-Éric cries out as he comes, losing his rhythm, barely able to hold his body upright. His orgasm seems to wash over him, starting in his cock and rippling outwards, making his fingers tingle and toes curl and the skin of his scalp prickle at the sheer intensity. Dan fucks him through it, holding him in place so he can keep thrusting, moaning as Jev clenches around him. He’s barely aware of Dan watching him until he groans out, “God, your _face_ , you really do love it,” and he sounds so wrecked that it sets off another round of aftershocks, making him shudder and moan as his cock twitches in Dan’s loose fist.

He slumps forward, holding himself up on shaking arms braced either side of Dan’s shoulders. Dan grips his hips, smearing come across his skin, his own hips lifting from the bed as he fucks into Jean-Éric’s spent body. He curses loudly, pulling Jev’s body down so his arse is flush against Dan’s pelvis and holding him there, riding out his orgasm with short fast thrusts. Jean-Éric blinks his eyes open to watch the way Dan bites his lip and presses his head back into the pillows.

There’s a long moment of silence, just the two of them breathing harshly. Jean-Éric is curled over on himself, arms shaking too much to hold himself up, and Dan’s hands have fallen to the bed, sprawled out and boneless. One of his fingers strokes over the bump of Jean-Éric’s ankle fondly, the most he can manage.

Eventually Dan stirs, groaning slightly and nudging at Jev. “I need to -” he says, pushing at Jean-Éric’s thigh until he gets the hint and carefully lifts himself off Dan’s softening dick, Dan holding the condom in place. Jev can’t do much more than collapse to the bed beside him, waiting until Dan’s finished dealing with the necessary clean-up before he tugs him close. Dan wraps his arms around Jev’s body, nuzzling at his temple.

“That was nice,” Jean-Éric says into Dan’s neck, feeling Dan’s shoulders shake with laughter.

“Nice?” Dan says, combing his fingers through Jev’s sweat-damp hair. “That’s all you’re gonna give it? _Nice_?”

“Extremely nice,” Jev says, lifting his head to grin. Dan scoffs and cuffs him lightly on the shoulder, leaning in to kiss him slowly.

They rest like that for a few moments, Dan breathing against Jev’s lips, and Jev licks at the sweat on his top lip with the tip of his tongue, nipping the swollen flesh gently.

“I have to go soon,” Dan mumbles, not resisting when Jev makes a disgruntled noise and kisses him again to shut him up. He runs his hands up and down Jev’s sides, tickling the sensitive skin beneath his ribcage, then groans. “No, I really do. It’s getting late.”

Jev groans too but relents, and Dan draws him close one last time, squeezing him hard enough that he squeaks before disentangling their sticky limbs and sitting up, looking around for his discarded clothes.

Jean-Éric crawls beneath the covers, too sated and lazy to think about showering, relatively content to watch Dan wander about the room naked except for his boxers, looking for his socks. The bed is ruined, sheets twisted and crumpled and damp with stains Jean-Éric doesn’t really want to consider. He thinks about how he’ll have to sleep there alone that night, pressing his nose into the pillows to chase the scents of sex and Dan’s skin, of how much nicer it would be to wake up the next morning with the warm certainty of Dan’s body next to him. Then he pushes the thoughts away, forces himself to think of other things. There’s no point in torturing himself. He’s spent enough time doing that.

Dan seems to pick up on the drop in his mood, hovering uncertainly next to the bed once he’s dressed. Jev smiles up at him, tries to look reassuring and unconcerned, but Dan just sighs and leans down to press a soft kiss against his lips. “This _was_ nice,” he says, cupping Jev’s jaw in one hand briefly before he straightens up again. “The whole thing, I mean. Seeing you again.”

“It was,” Jean-Éric says. He lifts one hand, squeezes Dan’s briefly. “Let’s not leave it so long next time.”

Dan nods, brushing his thumb over Jev’s knuckles before he lets his hand drop. “Good luck tomorrow,” Jean-Éric says, and it’s a dismissal. Dan smiles at him a little sadly, a closed-mouth twist of his lips, not his usual media-friendly broad grin, and Jean-Éric fights the urge to look away.

“Thanks, Jev,” Dan says. His fingers twitch at his sides as though he’s about to make another movement and decides against it, and then he nods, mostly to himself, and lifts a hand in farewell before he leaves.

Jean-Éric rolls on to his back, staring at the ceiling as he listens to the front door click shut down the hallway. He pushes the bedcovers down to examine the faint pink lines Dan’s blunt nails have scratched down his stomach and thighs, running his fingers over them to feel the echo of sensation. He’s not sad, not exactly. What would be the point? Dan goes where he wants, and Jev will go his own separate way too, and maybe some time soon they’ll meet up again and probably they’ll fuck again too. It’s strange, the thought that maybe this will last forever, that their lives will always intertwine at some point and they will sink into the distant familiarity of each other’s bodies. He presses his fingers against the dark smudges over his hipbones, ghost imprints of Dan’s fingertips, and thinks again about what it would be like to wake up with Dan next to him, how things could have been different. How easily they could have torn each other apart. He thinks the distance is probably for the best.


End file.
